


On Her Majesty's Secret Q

by internetname



Series: From Q, With Love [6]
Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-14
Updated: 2014-10-14
Packaged: 2018-02-21 05:33:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2456594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/internetname/pseuds/internetname
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She's lovely, she's empathic, and she wants Picard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On Her Majesty's Secret Q

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this years ago under the name Veroneeka. I need to thank the incredible patience and kindness and general wonderfulness of Ruth Gifford, the beta-reader from Heaven.

Her Royal Highness, Queen of the Alstriad, did not hesitate to have them brought before her, adjusting her bright, multicolored ceremonial robes as she relaxed in her modest throne with a welcoming smile. Her long, dark hair slid thickly over her left shoulder to pool in her lap, and her darkly blue eyes gazed with a bright anticipation of this meeting. She had never had Federations before.

There was something perfectly delicious in possessing something so many others wanted, and though she knew the Federation would not pay as much as others would for the sklothym ore, she would rather deal with such honorable and dependable people, as opposed to the Ferengi Alliance or the Romulans. Honorable and dependable people could be predicted, could be...useful. 

She considered herself, after all, dependable. 

There were fewer of them than she had expected: five, in all. 

The tall one caught her eye first, she admitted to herself later with some amusement. He was flamboyant: large and cute in a hairy-faced kind of way. At his side walked a darkly beautiful woman for whom this tall man cared rather deeply, but it was obvious they had nothing settled. A lovely woman with blonde hair (dyed) stood at her side. Deep at her core was some sort of sorrow, and Her Highness moved quickly onto the strange, pale-skinned android whose feelings were more pallid than his complexion, and then, finally, with the feeling of saving the choicest for last, she looked at the leader. 

Power. Every motion of his compact, muscled frame announced it as he and the others knelt respectfully on the large cushions splayed before her. Power and authority and intelligence. His face was more pronounced than she usually cared for, and he was older than any of her consorts had been before. 

But then when he looked at her she sensed something more compelling even than power. There was a deep, unshakable contentedness about the man. He had a lover who kept him happy, someone who met his needs and more, someone who almost seemed to shine out of his eyes as he looked at her with magnanimous respect. His entire manner proclaimed that he had found what he was looking for, and even as he recognized her overwhelming beauty, she realized he felt no inner response to it at all. 

How lovely. 

_More, please._

It was a simple request, and one Q's lover was happy to grant. 

Picard loved this. Q was sprawled out naked on his couch, hands gripping and releasing the empty air, his skin glistening with sweat, his chest wrenching up and down, his legs pressed between the cushions and Jean-Luc's hands, his hips pushing forward, his whole body matching his mind's request for more. Little sounds of pleasure escaped him as Picard worked to give him all he could, and yet this was before he would become frantic, before he would arch and shudder and come. This was still the spiraling increase of pleasure and love that wrapped around them both as Picard sucked deeply and worked his tongue around every ridge and curve, still seeking out some new spot or application of pressure that would bring more joy to the one he loved. 

Q was showing him something now, an image of the both of them, naked on the couch, Q's legs spread and Jean-Luc's head moving up and down at their juncture. And with the image came Q's near inability to believe that Picard would do this for him, be like this with him. 

And Picard sent the image back, an exact copy with one addition: they were both wearing funny hats. 

_I'd do anything to please you, my love._

Q began to laugh, throwing up his arms and wallowing deeper into the cushions as Jean-Luc continued his perfect movements. A finger teased him, and Q eagerly added the lubrication needed to allow that finger to slide into him, which it did, over and over, helping to bring him swiftly and deliciously towards release. 

And then, damn him, Picard stopped him with pressure at the base of his cock, waiting until the impulse was temporarily suppressed, then bent back down to his task. 

_That's enough of that, if you don't mind._

Picard laughed, almost gagging when he forgot to be careful. He'd learned how to read Q's thoughts at multiple levels now, and the difference between those preemptory words and the desperation under them was a delight beyond reason. He thought about kissing a light pattern around the head of Q's penis to draw things out just a bit longer, and Q, picking up on the thought, pushed his hips forward with a loud groan. 

_If I don't come soon I'm not going to let you fuck me tonight._

_Yes, you will._ The thought was smug, but Q easily heard the love under it, so he wasn't too surprised -- just overjoyed -- when Picard suddenly thrust two fingers deeply inside him as he moved his lips down the whole length of Q's erection, sucking hard. The heat washed through the entity with a deep intensity that somehow only perfected the lazy afternoon. He seemed almost to come in slow motion; each long, deep, deliberate wave of pure pleasure drawn out along each sluggish nerve as it centered in that delicious release. He felt Picard swallow and swallow and concentrated his feelings so that his semen was filling the man with the languid joy of his deeply contented love. With a sigh he shuddered through the final aftershock and oozed bonelessly into the soft cushions. 

Picard moved up and lay beside him, not speaking for a long time, though his erection pressed eloquently into Q's thigh. 

But when Q stirred, Picard held him closer. 

_No hurry. It is a slow sort of day._ With the meeting with the queen over, there was really nothing more to do until tomorrow, and it wasn't even close to the evening yet. 

Q smiled, eyes closed, and lay there awhile longer, until he felt more than ready, and then reached over and trailed a gentle touch along that silk-wrapped steel. 

_You really so sure you get to stick that in me?_

Picard chuckled. _Yes._

_You really think you get to put something so hard and covered in gunk into my pristine body?_

_I'll do it without the gunk if you like._

_Hmmm. It would still be hard._

Picard's chuckles were growing into belly laughs as his body began slowly to reposition itself while shoving a throw pillow under Q's hips. 

_That is the idea._ Deliberately, he allowed his penis to move over Q's buttocks, then to slide up and down along the cleft. Ordinarily, Q would start to get urgent now, but Picard's delays matched their shared torpor. Savoring every sensation, the man spread Q open with his strong hands and placed just the tip of himself there, letting a slow pulse of anticipation tingle through him completely before pushing inside. 

"Ughhhhh," Q said, moving just a bit to give his lover better access. _Presumptuous Human._

_Overbearing Q-thing._ One slow thrust deep inside, then just holding himself there. One, two, three thrusts, and then a few kisses on the soft skin over the curves of his spine. 

_Smug little primate._ Q reached back with the hand not buried in the crook of the sofa and caressed Picard's hip. 

_Officious demi-god._ Another withdrawal and thrust, then another, then more kisses. 

_Federation marionette._ Q spread his legs further, arching his back, as his hand fell towards the floor. 

_Continuum lackey._ Reaching up, he ran his fingers through the dark hair of Q's head, then trailed a warm palm down his back, then withdrew and thrust deeply several times, eyes closing with the bliss of it. 

_You call this fucking?_ Q's hips pushed back slowly, perfectly matched to Picard's pace, and at the same rhythm clenched and unclenched the muscles around the man's rock-hard erection. 

"Oooooh." _Hm, my regular date canceled and you're the best I could do on short notice._ He altered the angle of his thrusts slightly, feeling Q's shudders as he came into better contact with that tiny gland. Q was beginning a low rumbling series of groans that vibrated through them both, and the captain had to concentrate tightly to keep his rhythm slow and even. Sweat was trickling down the backs of his legs and shimmering over Q's smooth back. 

Arching down, Picard licked a long trail over that back, then moved his tongue in lazy circles, enjoying the taste of his excited lover, nibbling on the edge of his shoulder blade. Q's lower back pressed against his stomach as he stopped thrusting, lying there buried deep in that tight warmth that welcomed him, that wanted him, that even now slowly gripped and relaxed around him. 

_This is all I ever want to do anymore._

_Starfleet Command will be somewhat dismayed by your letter of resignation._

_From Picard, Jean-Luc, Captain USS Enterprise, to Starfleet Command. Dear Sirs: I regret to inform you that I find exploring the universe is less of a challenge than exploring my lover's gorgeous body._

_From Starfleet Command to Picard, Captain, USS Enterprise. Dear Jean-Luc: We've seen him and we can't blame you._

Laughing and thrusting in rhythm to that deliriously perfect clenching and releasing warmth, Jean-Luc set himself towards some serious fucking, gripping Q's hips tightly and driving himself into that heat over and over. Q began to make those little whimpers and jerks that signaled the beginnings of a powerful orgasm, and Jean-Luc thought about slowing down, then sped up instead, waiting for the request that would remove the last hesitation. 

"Ahhh...harder, please!" 

"Yes! Yes!" _You feel so good. My perfect lover._

And then Q reached out, wrapping them both together in the languid joy of loving sensation and sweaty physicality, focusing them both on every detail of this joining, combining their awareness of each other in yet one more new position that brought new pleasure, new excitement. 

Hitting the boundary and then breaking through it together, they groaned and pushed together one last time before the last of them was spent and, in keeping with the spirit of the day, then drifted slowly off to sleep, plastered together by sweat and semen and the sated contentment of love. 

  
“I must admit I was really quite impressed," Captain Picard said, unconsciously running a relaxed hand over his head. "One so seldom meets a planetary monarch." 

"At least one who seems to enjoy really acting like a monarch," Beverly agreed, trying not to stare at Jean-Luc and wondering if he had any idea he had an "I've just been laid" look on his face. His body was not sitting in his chair as much as it seemed to have been poured into the seat, and the gliding quality of his gestures was making it difficult to concentrate on her jellied croissant. 

The queen had certainly noticed him, the doctor thought, wondering if it were somehow possible that her friend hadn't recognized the constant threat of drool the monarch had posed while she talked about the terms of extracting the sklothym ore. Alstriad was one of the richest worlds in the sector, protected by a variety of allies who wanted access to the ore, and the sovereign herself was the richest person on her world. Her eyes were used to owning what they looked on, and they had looked on Jean-Luc a lot. 

But then Beverly reminded herself that the captain was hardly in any danger. The queen could plot all she liked, she wasn't getting Jean-Luc away from Q, and would end up looking foolish if she tried. 

"You're right," the man sitting across from her said, making her blink. "It was obvious that she enjoys her position, and that, moreover, she wants everyone to realize she enjoys her position. I couldn't help wondering at the time whether it's part of her function as the Alstriadian ruler to enjoy so overtly the luxury of her people's fortune. A sort of advertisement for their collective happiness." 

_Oh, is_ that _what you were thinking of, Jean-Luc?_ Beverly hid her smile in her coffee cup. 

"You think it might be a pose, then?" she asked instead. "And that she only gouged us for the price so that everyone will think she's doing a good job?" 

"Well," he smiled, "I'm sure she had other motives as well. An economy like that can't sustain itself for long without importing in profit fifty times what it exports in goods." 

"And there's their image to maintain," Beverly said, distracting herself with a private realization. As long as she had known Jean-Luc, he had been severely controlling of his own image. The fact that he was currently relaxed, that he looked so completely at ease, was a testament not to Q's power over him, but the depth of her friendship with Jean-Luc. And if she hadn't been so jealous of his happiness -- yes, finally, she admitted it -- she would have known that immediately. 

And yet, in admitting her jealousy, she knew it wasn't really fair or true. She wasn't so much jealous of his happiness as in awe of it, and so, suspicious of it. She was greatly impressed at how little he had changed as a captain, how unaffected had been his authority and competence, since he had become lovers -- or whatever one would call it -- with Q, when she thought of how extraordinary had been the change in his personal life. When he wasn't on duty, when he relaxed around his friends, Jean-Luc glowed with contentment and seemed sometimes in danger of purring like a cat. He had taken to making the oh-so-occasional smug and outrageously funny remark at the poker game, and smiled indulgently at Deanna and Will's increasingly overt romance. 

And now, finally, with her he wasn't hiding his happiness at all. She felt honored and touched at the recognition of what that special degree of relaxation in his posture meant, and, without thinking about it, suddenly reached across the table and took his hand, smiling her pleasure for him with an openness to match his own. He met her eyes almost merrily, and squeezed back with declarative firmness of good will. 

"So," she said after a moment as they released each other and settled back with their coffee cups, "what topics are scheduled for today?" 

He frowned. "Starfleet Command have made it very clear that we are to establish whatever Federation presence on this world that we can. Ideally, this could become an important trade route. Unfortunately, the question of just whose trade route it might become is still a matter of debate." 

"It will be difficult for us, since we're not prepared to give out the sort of profit the Ferengi will." 

"Hmm. Or the sort of military support they could get from the Klingon Empire. There's even speculation that the Romulans have made offers. Things really could go poorly if we don't make a good impression." He smiled. 

"Jean-Luc..." She took a breath and set down her cup. "Are you aware that the queen was showing rather overt...interest in you?" 

The frown grew puzzled. "Interest?" 

"Yes. In you. As a man." 

"Oh, really, Beverly!" 

"It's a simple observation, Jean-Luc. And one you shouldn't be blind to." She had to work hard to keep a smile off her face. Her friend actually looked flustered. But then, he had never been all that good at this sort of thing. She found herself wondering what he did when Q said nice things. 

"Well..." He seemed to consider and discard a variety of responses. "I'm sure the monarch is used to having admirers and won't care that one starship captain isn't interested in returning her...attentions." He took a sip of coffee, then looked at her. "What?" 

"Nothing." Beverly shook her head and put her napkin on the table. "Lovely having breakfast with you, as always." 

Picard watched her go, shrugging slightly as he took one more sip of coffee, set the cup on the table and leaned back. Warm hands settled on his shoulders, creating something between a rub and a caress. 

"Chatty this morning, wasn't she?" 

"Why didn't you join us?" The captain had known his lover was near for the last minute or so. 

"And break up such a lovely scene?" Jean-Luc's hands had come back towards Q, stoking the material of his uniform over his chest, reaching up for his arms. Q bent down and kissed the top of his head, then his ear, then finally, as the captain turned, his lips. They tasted of coffee and sweet jelly and the uniqueness that was his lover and he plundered them with a sudden rise of hunger. His tongue ran along them, then immediately inside them, then deeply beyond them to meet and stroke Jean-Luc's tongue, and his whole Human body began to hum with it. Kneeling down now, he wrapped his arms around that trim form and shuddered as the man slid forward in his chair to wrap Q up tightly as well. 

"Riker to Captain Picard." 

Picard gently broke the kiss, not moving anything else. 

"Yes, Commander?" 

"Her Highness has requested that we beam down to continue our talks in half an hour, sir. She's also asked that we present a gift for supplication." 

"A what?" Q had moved slightly, pushing a hand between them to run along the inside of Picard's thigh. The captain glared at his lover, who smiled back serenely. 

"It's not a part of the standard talks," Riker said. 

"Captain," Data's voice came over the comm. "I have studied this custom in some detail. I believe that the monarch is extending an honor to the ship and to you personally. The gift should reflect the Federation's willingness to please the people of Alstriad and Her Highness herself. The most common gift in such an instance is jewelry." 

The captain deeply suppressed the deeper groan his whole body wanted to produce as Q's hand worked its back-and-forth way towards the top of his thigh. The expression in those dark brown eyes was growing dark and earnest. 

"Yes, Data. Replicate something appropriate." 

"Aye, sir." 

"I'll see you both in the transporter room in twenty-five minutes. Picard out." The second the computer signaled that the comm line was broken he gave out that groan, letting the last of it smother inside Q's warm mouth as he searched for the responses he needed. Q's hands were working on his uniform, however, and suddenly his growing erection was freed and Q was breaking the kiss to bend down and take him in with that sudden depth that made him roar. He grew immediately rock-hard as those sensual lips sucked and that skilled tongue caressed. 

And then he forced his bliss-closed eyes open and looked down at the sight of Q on his knees in front of him, his dark head bent to that intimate task, and rode a wave of disbelief that Q would do this for him, no matter that he had done it so many times over the last six months (relatively speaking). Jean-Luc never thought he could get used to the sight, to the knowledge of just where his penis was right now, and just what was happening to it. 

As carefully as he could, reverently, he put his hands into that hair and stroked the clean, fine feel of it, the backs of his fingers picking up the warm feel of his scalp. 

"Ohhhhh," he breathed, not wanting to come too soon. "I love you. I love what you do with me. I love that...you're here with me. I love...I love...ooh, yes, that's it...God, Q...oh, please, more...yes..." 

But then right before his body started on that hot surge of sensation, Picard felt Q let go of him and raise his head to look into his eyes, his lips wet with saliva and his lover's precum. 

"Are you sure you wouldn't rather have Her Highness here?" 

Picard couldn't even figure out what that was supposed to mean and simply stared at him before shaking his head and then pulling slightly on Q's head with the hands wrapped in his hair. 

"Please...love...don't stop." 

"Beverly seemed to think there was something going on there." 

"What? With that...?" Picard simply couldn't deal with even this teasing display of jealousy, and now one of Q's long fingers was caressing his wet, pulsing erection, driving him further from his intellect and deeper into sheer lust. _Q, if I don't come soon I'm not going to let you fuck me tonight._

Q laughed, his relieved look unnoticed by his desperate lover. _Yes, you will._ Then he bent down to finish what he started, licking over that part of his lover that he had found so silly in Humans when he'd first learned of it, then found so...not silly when he'd met Picard. He settled the tip of his tongue down in that soft, sensitive crease of the glans, lingering there, tasting and feeling Picard's whole body respond with little movements urging him to do more. 

He loved this. So deeply did he love this that it worried him at times. Human sexual practices were terribly physical, after all, and hardly complex enough to warrant the time that he spent thinking about them. Sometimes, when he was far from the Enterprise while his lover was on duty, he found he could not concentrate on anything for the images of Picard that assaulted him, that rode him and drove him back to the ship simply to wait for Jean-Luc to be free. Kneeling down like this, letting now the tip of his tongue trace the outline of the head while Picard almost whimpered, almost tugged Q down over his erection by the hair, almost shouted at him to do more, Q felt his own impossible joy at bringing this Human pleasure, in taking him to ecstasy in deliberate movements of just his tongue and hands. 

Cupping that warm sac with his right hand, he placed his left on Picard's knee, feeling his increased warmth and the tremble of his leg even through the material of his uniform. Lightly his tongue trailed up of the side of Picard's cock, then down and up while the man involuntarily moved into that hot wetness. Q did it again. And again. 

"Please, Q... _please._ What are you doing to me? Please...love. I don't...please..." 

Realizing abruptly that he'd gone a little too far with this, Q quickly took him in all the way, sucking hard, releasing slightly to twirl his tongue, then sucking harder. 

Soon, the man came, violently, gasping. In repentance, Q cleaned him with his tongue thoroughly, then kissed that soft skin and tucked him in again before fastening his uniform and finally meeting Picard's eyes. 

"And what," that deep voice asked quietly, "was all that about?" 

Q remained kneeling in front of him, kept his hand on his knee. "Just keeping you off-balance." 

"There's off-balance and there's dead. Do that again and you'll kill me." 

Briefly Q considered answering that comment honestly. But no, it really wasn't time for that talk yet. Instead, he just smiled darkly. 

"Be good, Mon Capitaine." 

Picard looked at the flash where his lover has been, aware that for once Q hadn't cleaned him completely. He was covered in sweat and only had a few minutes before he was to meet the away team. Stripping off his uniform, hopping in and out of the sonic shower, and getting dressed again kept his body busy, but his mind was wandering freely in its confusion. Why had Q been so odd? He hadn't been so distant since...well, he had never been quite so detached while doing _that._ Picard hadn't felt him in his thoughts at all, nor had he seemed even to be paying strict attention to what he was doing. The captain felt almost insulted, and greatly disturbed. 

But there was no time to think about it now. There would have been, if Q had stayed around long enough to fix up a temporal anomaly. Picard would rather have spent weeks out of time than go down to the planet with such uncertainty hanging over him. 

_Q! If you would come back here we could talk about this!_

Nothing. Q was not nearby. Picard felt horribly alone and bereft. 

Tugging his uniform strictly into place, Picard walked from the room, down the hall, in and out of the turbolift and then into the transporter room with the exact same expression on his face. 

"They've signaled that they're ready to receive us, Captain," Riker said, standing in his dress uniform with Data, Crusher, and Troi. 

"Good. Is that the gift, Mr. Data?" 

"Aye, sir." The android said, holding out the ornate wooden box he'd replicated. At the captain's nod, he opened the top to reveal an ornate but extremely tasteful necklace of gold, diamonds and rubies. "It is a Terran-based imitation of the Fifth Alstriadian Coronation jewels, given four hundred years ago to the current monarch's ancestor as a sign of peace between two warring factions." 

"Excellent, Mr. Data." He watched his second officer close the box, then took it and nodded at the others to get on the transporter pad. As he climbed the few steps himself, he felt off-balance. For a half-second, his anger at Q threatened to reach the surface, but he shoved it down ruthlessly and took his own place on the pad. 

"Energize," he ordered, watching the familiar sparkles change the world until he was standing outside the throne room. After a minute or so making empty remarks to one of Her Highness' advisors, they were let inside the chamber and Picard made a speech to the beautiful queen before passing over the gift. 

From his corner, cut off from Picard by an act of sheer and ruthless will, Q watched the away team enter the room, steadily tracking each movement by Picard and the queen. 

The pain he had felt when Crusher had mentioned the queen's interest in him, and at Picard's casual reply, had been powerful. But he'd managed to shrug it off at first, believing that his lover would have no interest in anyone but himself, and so had done to Picard what he'd planned before he'd overheard the conversation. 

But the pain wouldn't go away. In fact, once he'd looked into matters on the planet, it had increased to the point where he'd almost changed history to keep the Enterprise from coming here, and to keep this creature from ever laying eyes on his Jean-Luc. 

But he hadn't. It was impossible to create such a deception, impossible to live forever without the certainty that Picard could, in fact, resist her. 

And now Q felt that old familiar feeling, one that Picard's love had almost driven away and which came rushing so easily back to possess him: he hated himself. If Picard succumbed to Alstriad's ruler, he could hardly be blamed. Her whole life was spent seeing to it that people succumbed to her, and Q could easily look over that life and see how successful she had been. 

And yet still Q wanted Jean-Luc to be her failure, wanted him to be more than Human, wanted him to snub her and want no one but Q. Even as he knew better than she how many had embraced her charms, as he saw their happy surrender -- men, women, Human, Klingon, Rumulan, Vulcan -- and felt her joyous triumph, he wanted his lover to feel nothing for her and revel in the knowledge that he could be so greatly loved. 

But though he despised himself for that desire, he stayed in his corner and watched. He hadn't even warned Picard what he was facing. 

_He told me not to warn him. He told me he wants to explore the galaxy without my telling him what he'll find,_ Q told himself, and then felt his self-disgust deepen. 

"It's a beautiful present," the queen was purring. One of her footmen bowed, took the box, and placed it on a table on the side of the room. "You Federations are really quite remarkable." 

"We have many cultures which make up our Federation, embracing all manner of societies and rituals, and yet each of them understands the beauty of gifts," Picard said. "We're honored to be able to negotiate with you in good faith for both the ore and for your friendship." 

"Do you see friendship as a matter of negotiation, then?" She smiled at him, and the first tendril of desire snaked across the room to brush him lightly. 

"Yes, at first. The good ones make it past the opening rounds with trust and a mutual appreciation of each other's values, skills, interests -- whatever the two parties want from one another." 

"And the bad ones?" Another tendril, a bit more insistently. 

"Take a bit longer to arrive at that appreciation." 

She raised her eyebrow at him, shifting slightly in her chair, sending out a third tendril. "So you think the Romulans, for example, are simply taking their time in coming to appreciate you?" 

"Well, there's certainly much for both of us to learn from each other, and I personally have met more than one Romulan I would be proud to call a friend." 

"You sound as though you were pleased with the relations between your peoples." Another, very powerful tendril now. More like a tentacle, and her aim was a little broad. Riker and Troi were both putting all their effort into not jumping atop each other, Crusher was astonished to find herself in the middle of an erotic fantasy about Odan, and Data found that he was meticulously and favorably comparing the Alstriad Queen's attributes with those of the Borg Queen. 

"'Pleased' is too strong a word." Picard nodded his head, searching for the right words. "But I think that if one considers the vast differences in our cultures, our value system, or religions, even our aesthetics, we have not done so poorly that we need to be ashamed, even while we must acknowledge that there is room for improvement." 

"No cause for shame at all," the queen said rather abruptly, signaling her footmen. "I must turn now to the other business of the day. I hope, Captain Picard, that you and your officers will do me the honor of joining my guard at dinner tonight." 

"Yes, thank you." Picard stood and the others followed, Riker greatly relieved that he wasn't embarrassing himself by doing so. Troi found herself suppressing a wicked grin. 

With a regal nod, she let them go, and with a captain's nod, Picard and the others left. 

Angrily, the queen ordered everyone to leave her alone, then went to take a scented bath and think things through. She had never failed her position so greatly before, and she knew this was not some mistake in her chosen project. She could _feel_ the pleasure of the man, could _taste_ the joy that could be shared. Everything about the captain screamed intimacy and a downright tangible lust. What was she if she couldn't access that? 

Q couldn't believe it. Picard hadn't even noticed her! Not a single one of her telepathic snares had found its prey, the unspent backlash flaring out to touch the others while Picard sat there and talked about the negotiations of friendship! 

Q had no idea his relationship with Picard had affected the man's telepathy to this extent. Or was that even the issue? Picard had always been incredibly disciplined and strong-willed. Perhaps even without Q's interference in his life he still wouldn't have noticed her. 

And then Q shook himself away from that and forced himself to acknowledge that what he had most wanted was true: Picard hadn't paid attention to that self-appointed goddess of lust because he loved Q. By whatever combination of Q's influence and his own will brought this to pass, it was Picard's love for him that had made it so. 

With a flick of his mind he chilled the queen's bath, causing her to scream for her servants, then transported himself a hundred light-years outside Picard's galaxy, wrapped himself up into a ball of energy, and exploded with sheer joy. 

  
Picard stepped down from the transporter pad without noticing the looks Riker and Troi were sending each other, or that Crusher headed immediately to Holodeck Four. 

With even steps he walked to the turbolift, turned, called out his deck, and watched the doors close. 

"So things went well, Mon Capitaine?" 

Picard looked at Q quietly. The entity waited a moment before trying again: 

"Something amiss?" 

Picard looked at the doors. 

"Jean-Luc?" Q moved closer and watched with concern as Picard leaned slightly away. 

"Do you want to tell me what you think you were doing?" the captain asked finally. 

"When?" 

Those hazel eyes met the dark brown ones again, hinting at scorn. "Are you going to lie to me now?" 

Q wrapped his arms around himself, disguising it as simply crossing them. He recognized that the lift was about to stop and open its doors. 

"You've moved us out of time," Picard noted without emotion. 

"You're getting very good at noticing that." 

"You could have taken us out of time earlier. You could have talked to me about whatever was on your mind instead of running away from me." 

Q began to squirm. 

"And now you're back, completely unprepared and unwilling to give me an explanation for your behavior. And I can feel your closeness again, just as it was before. And the fact that for over two hours I could feel nothing, as though you had ceased to exist, you want that to mean nothing." 

"Jean-Luc..." 

"Yes, Q?" 

"She isn't what she appears." 

Picard frowned. "Who isn't?" 

"The Alstriad Monarch. She's an empath, and a powerful one." 

A moment went by in silence. "Yes?" 

"She wants you. She was trying to get you." 

Anger began to creep over those aquiline features. "I see." 

"She's never failed before, not with someone she really wanted. Her emotional manipulation of others is the main reason she was made queen." 

His bottom lip drawn up, Picard stared at Q until the entity was practically hopping with anxiety. 

"You told me not to warn you! You said you didn't want to know about things like that." 

"Q." Picard took in and then released a deep breath, but did not relax with it. "Were you there, in the throne room, with us?" 

Q looked away, then back. "Yes." 

"So you just cut yourself off from me, so that you could watch me." 

"Yes." 

"Because she is such a powerful seductress." 

"...Yes." 

"And you wanted to see how well she'd do?" 

Q stared at him. "It's not like that." 

"It's not?" 

"No." 

For a long, deadly minute, the Captain of the Enterprise stared up into the entity's now rather frightened eyes, then, with a slow deliberation, turned around and braced his hands against the wall, spreading his legs slightly. 

"Is this all I'm good for, Q?" 

Q gasped, stunned by how much those quiet words hurt him. This was worse than hating himself for wanting to test Picard. This was worse than fearing he would lose him. This was worse than anything. 

"Jean-Luc, please. Don't -- don't do that." 

"Why not?" He seemed perfectly comfortable addressing the wall. "A challenge came up in our relationship, and instead of dealing with it together, you took your comfortable distance and watched to see how I would perform. Well, here I am, ready to perform again. Why don't you just fuck me?" 

"Oh, no, it wasn't...I didn't..." Q was holding his stomach now, his belly so twisted it felt as though someone had struck him there. He wanted more than anything to pry Picard off that stupid wall and hold him, but for the first time since they had come back from those first three incredible weeks out of their time together, he didn't know that he would be allowed to touch Jean-Luc anymore. The pain was pressing up to his chest now, and he wasn't breathing well. "That's not what happened." 

"That is exactly what happened." 

"Jean-Luc, _please_ turn around." 

The man rested his head against the wall. "You really did ruin me, you know. I thought what we had meant something...extraordinary to both of us." 

"It does!" 

"I thought it would count for something that we've been the same person, that we've shared everything we are to each other and more." 

"Stop. Please. Don't say anymore." 

"Are you prepared to fuck me now?" 

"Stop it! Damnit! I made a mistake!" Reaching out, shaking with the risk of it, he grabbed Picard's shoulders and forced him to turn. Dull hazel eyes looked into his own, bright with tears that now spilled as he kept shouting. "I made a mistake and you're going to have to forgive me!" 

"Am I?" 

"Yes!" And Q pulled Picard in tight and kissed him, sobbing when those lips didn't respond. _Jean-Luc?_ He pressed tighter. 

No voice replied, but the emptiness did not actually push him away. 

_Jean-Luc, it wasn't you I didn't trust. It was...life. It was my life._ He wrapped his arms around that compact body and pressed closer still. _For billions of years I haven't been with you. Don't I get a grace period?_

_You cut me off. I was alone._

Crying harder now at those hurt-filled words, covering both their faces in his tears, Q reached towards that voice, looking for the resistance inside his lover to soothe with his remorse. But instead he found a simple, straight-forward request, one he almost quailed in front of. 

Then, nauseated at the emptiness of it, Q opened his mind without reaching for Jean-Luc, holding himself there, naked and spread-eagled. Stripped from everything that protected him, without shelter, without skin, he waited for whatever Picard wanted, shivering with cold and empty of all but need and fear. 

Gently, a single, warm, inquiring thread entered him, and he had to use all his will to keep from grasping at it. His mind craved that contact more than anything, and he shuddered and would have fallen had not the man's arms come up to hold him. 

And then his memories were accessed, the past few hours. His need for Jean-Luc to resist her. His need to have his lover be extraordinary for him and his guilt and self-hatred at that need. 

And then, below all that, almost hidden from Q himself, the belief that a beautiful woman with sensual empathy would simply be more appealing to Picard than an omnipotent who had made him jump through hoops. Picard could see in detail the unfavorable comparison Q had drawn between his chosen body and the queen's, his insecure needs and her smug self-confidence, his power and her skills. 

_Are you insane?_ Picard's voice asked with quiet exasperation. _If I wanted that, wouldn't I ask you to become it? If I wanted anything other than what you give me, is there a chance you'd say no if I asked for it?_

_No._ The reply was instinctive. 

_Have I given you any cause to believe that I was dissatisfied with our relationship? Could I have done anything more to show that I love you?_

_No._

_Are you bored with me? Is this your way of pushing me away?_

_No!_

_You're slobbering all over me, Q._

_Tell me what to do. Tell me what I can do._

_Well, whip up a tissue and blow your nose._

The confusion and then hope Q felt when he realized Picard was making a joke stabbed into them both with pain. Q blew his nose and wiped his eyes and stared with love into the face which now looked like his lover and not some mask his lover had put on for public scrutiny. 

"You must not do this again," the man ordered. 

"Never." And then, _Never._

"I don't care if the most desirable lifeform in the galaxy throws herself naked into my lap, you are never to believe I could want her instead of you. Understood?" 

There was too much honesty in the moment for dramatic assurances. "I will...try, Jean-Luc." 

"That's not good enough!" 

Q was shaking, his forehead pressed now against his lover's shoulder as he ran through a hundred images of the universe's sweet delights, a fraction of his lifetime's worth of tempting spoils. 

_But I don't love any of them, Q. Is it really so hard for you to understand?_

_You don't know...You can't see..._

_I don't need to know and I don't need to see._

Q just stood there, shaking and holding on tight. Picard let several moments go by, thinking, trying to understand things from Q's perspective. 

_It's no good,_ he told Q finally. 

Q's whole being went tense. _What's no good?_

_You're going to have to be inside me._

Q didn't relax. 

_I can't explain things this way, Q._ Carefully the man disengaged and turned back to brace his hands against the wall. _Hurry._

Q felt frozen, staring at the man he loved, unable to believe, now that he knew the depth of his own sin, that he could simply be forgiven like this. 

And yet, Jean-Luc's mind had never been more open, his need for Q never more urgent. 

Trembling hands lightly touched Picard's shoulders, and soon Q was pressed up against him, head bowed over to place the lightest of kisses along his temple, down the side of his face, around his ear. The heat coming through his uniform warmed Q's chilled body, and the demand for Q's entry burned the cold desolation within. 

Q never actually asked Jean-Luc if he were sure this was what he wanted, but every touch traced that question on his body. As gently as he could, fumbling, he opened Picard's uniform, peeling it away from that skin that was so warm and real and comforting. Carefully, he found each place he knew to bring Picard pleasure, along his shoulders, up and down the back of his neck, slowly, down his spine, along his sides, feeling him tremble and listening to his breathing and heartbeat increase their pace. 

Removing more of the thick material, Q knelt to kiss patterns on Picard's lower back, brushing that light body hair with his lips, basking in the knowledge of where he was and what he was doing and whom he was doing it to, and then his kisses went lower as the man hissed slightly and arched his back. 

_Hurry. Inside me. Fuck me._

But Q wanted to object that he wasn't ready -- his powerful erection notwithstanding -- that he wanted to touch Picard like this for days, little caresses and kisses all over his skin that smelled faintly of his sweat and arousal. He felt the most absurd need to light candles and prepare them both with scented baths. He wanted to create something beautiful and offer it as a present. He longed to destroy something ugly and lay its head at Jean-Luc's feet. Just to move into Picard's body while he was still so...unclean, still stinking of his jealousy and petty insecurities, would defile the gift under his hands. 

_You don't defile me, Q._ It was as if Q could _hear_ the tears on Jean-Luc's face in those words. _You complete me. You are me. And I thought I was you._

The inadequacy of those Human words, even uttered in his mind, drove Q up from his knees. What they needed to say to each other couldn't be expressed through the boundaries of identity. Getting rid of his clothes and lubricating them both with a snap, he pressed against his lover again, the contact of skin on skin making them both groan as Q's hands spread Picard open and his throbbing cock pressed urgently inside, filling him with one thrust of gentle, sustained force. 

Q had meant to rest there, deep inside his Jean-Luc, but his lover's pleasure at the movement spurred him to keep thrusting, angling for perfect contact and pressure, gripping his hips tightly and pressing him back against his chest as he rocked back and forth, coming closer and closer to that point where their ecstasy would open them to each other completely. Closing his eyes, he surrendered himself unconditionally to that tight heat and powerful response that was his lover. Remorse and guilt were battered away by relentless pleasure, filling them both, twining them together ever closer and closer and closer still. 

And then the boundaries were gone, and they poured into each other's consciousness with the taste of nectar, drinking greedily even as they were consumed. 

_I was an idiot,_ said Picard/Q, who agreed. 

And they were in the queen's throne room, looking at her while she looked at them. Her tendrils of desire reached out and they did not notice. She pouted her lips and caressed them with her eyes, and they did not see or feel it. Her voice purred promises they did not hear. 

Picard clenched around the hot strength inside him, then released to let his lover out again, rocking his own hips to meet Q's driving rhythm, hands pressing back against the wall of the lift, legs spread wide with his uniform around his ankles, back arched, groaning now heedless pleas for more and more. Again his body reeled with the rediscovery of how good this felt, how great was the power in his body, how electric was the charge of his every nerve end. He simply could not get enough of this. Q could not fill him to completion, could not sate the need for him inside. Every touch was pure oxygen to a flame that could not burn hot enough to scald him. 

They noticed that she was beautiful. How could they not? Like a work of fine art, she was presented before them. Beverly had said something to them about her desires, but such things were of no consequence. They laughed with private smugness, watching another pallid tendril snake out: a phaser shot into the sun. 

Q's hands dug into those narrow hips, angling the arch down just a bit more. The solid impact of that body against him was heaven, every sensation continuing to pound him away from the last of his grief. And yet he was crying again, hic-coughing huge broken lungfulls of air with his eyes shut tight and his muscles straining to give Picard all he had. His testicles were drawn in close. It was getting harder and harder not to come. His lover's cries, his smell, the indescribable feel of him all around and against his body and within his mind assaulted him with bliss. He stood unworthy as this blessed rain washed him, renewed him, took the eons of his past and made them merely a path to this point, this contact, this existence which was only in and with his wonderful Jean-Luc, the lover who did, indeed, make him complete. 

Oh! They fought not to laugh at Troi and Riker as the tendril broke and splashed the energy all about. What was wrong with those two, anyway? And poor Beverly and Data! The queen was actually batting her eyes a bit now. They watched from the corner exhaulting in the delight that her desire was so futile. Poor queen! 

Employing the force of his whole body, Picard shot all over the lift wall with a howl, setting off the entity inside him who now filled him with hot cum as Q continued to thrust, again and again, shouting his love, until he was spent of both his seed and his last endearment. 

Picard/Q continued to scream in ecstasy without sound, empowering themselves to go farther, to feel more, even as the bodies they were now only dimly aware of collapsed to the floor. 

_I am you, my love._

  
Snug in bed, his arms curled around the warm body pressed against his side, the Captain of the Enterprise forced himself to answer Riker's voice. 

"Picard here." 

"Captain, we've received a priority one call from Starfleet Command." 

"Transfer it down here, Commander." 

Getting out of bed was something more than an effort, and those dark eyes which followed him were threatening to take his attention from even the simplest task at hand. 

Grabbing his robe, he covered himself before sitting at his desk and turning on the monitor. 

"I trust you have some sort of explanation for this, Picard?" 

"Admiral Chek." He looked with respect and confusion at the face on his screen. "Explanation for what?" 

"Explanation for why the Alstriad government has announced that the Federation has forfeited its rights to negotiate over trading agreements regarding the sklothym ore?" 

"Admiral, I assure you, this is the first time I or my staff have heard of this. Let me get to the bottom of this. I'm sure any misunderstandings can be cleared up promptly." 

"I'll be counting on that, Picard. Chek out." 

Jean-Luc's eyes went to the concerned figure on his bed, then he shook himself and stood up, striding to pick up the uniform he had flung to the floor. 

"This involves me, you know," Q said softly. 

Picard looked up from fastening his pants. "I know, love." 

"So if I just found out for you what's wrong..." 

"That's a line I don't want to cross, Q, and certainly not for something as unimportant as the ruler of Alstriad." He began to put his tank top over his head. 

"Wait," Q said. 

Picard stood there, arms wrapped around his shirt, one eyebrow raised. 

Slowly, smiling faintly, Q leaned forward on the bed, looked into Picard's eyes, and then gently kissed his right nipple, then lapped it once, then again with just the tip of his tongue before placing a final, breath-soft kiss on the hard nub. Then Q leaned back to kneel on the bed, staring at him. 

"You're so beautiful." 

Picard took a deep, unsteady breath, struggled into the shirt, then grabbed Q's neck and drew him in for a long, deep kiss they both broke with overt reluctance. Then the captain turned to finish dressing and walked out. 

His officers were all completely in the dark, and had nothing but guesses to offer in conference. 

The rest of the day was spent getting the queen's advisors to agree to another meeting with the monarch and going over every part of the negotiations so far. But there was absolutely nothing anyone could find that should have displeased the Alstriad monarch in the slightest. 

Except, of course, for the one thing Picard most didn't want to talk about. 

Finally, a brief meeting with the queen having been established for that evening, Picard called another conference. 

"I'm sure you have all realized," Picard began, hiding his discomfort from everyone but Troi, "that I have asked Q not to interfere in ship's business, but this mission, in fact, may have been compromised by his presence." 

Picard was privately gratified when everyone looked surprised. 

"Moreover, I find it pointless, considering his unwilling involvement, not to make use of the information I have learned from him. It would seem that the Alstriad monarch is an active and powerful empath, able both to sense other's emotions and project emotions unto others, and to screen her powers from others." He made eye contact with Troi to establish that she was in no way responsible for not knowing this. 

"In addition, it would seem that she expends her considerable mental abilities on...ensnaring others for pleasure. It would also seem that I have been the target of such a snare. Her...failure may have been perceived as an insult." 

When the officers who had been with him in the throne room got over their own discomfort, there was a palpable concentration on finding a solution, and on phrasing it delicately. 

"Do you think she may simply be looking for an apology, Captain?" Troi asked. 

"I have no idea what she is looking for at this point, and, indeed, her personal interactions with me may have nothing to with it. But I did want you to be informed." 

"I wonder," Crusher said, "what you were saying earlier, Jean-Luc, about her needing to show how much her people are enjoying their wealth. Perhaps she may simply be enjoying her power to say no to us: snubbing the Federation to show that she can." 

"Well, having us come back pleading for a furtherance of the negotiations should be pleasant for her as well," Picard noted with joyless determination. "In the meantime, from her actions we know that she has no compunctions against being less than open with us. We should be on the lookout for any manner of hidden agenda." 

"Have you informed Starfleet Command of her deception, Captain?" Data asked. 

"It's hardly a part of Starfleet policy that every race report their mental and physical abilities to us. If I find evidence of deception in the actual negotiations, Starfleet Command will be informed immediately." Picard was aware he'd said that a little curtly, but this conversation was giving him a headache. 

"Sir," Riker said. "Is there any chance Q may...interfere more directly in the negotiations?" 

Picard had no idea, as a soft puff of his lover's laughter wafted through his mind and alleviated his headache, that a deeply contented, almost smug expression crossed his face. "No. I don't think so, Number One." 

Riker nodded, his expression as blank as the rest of the staff's. 

"Sir," Troi said carefully. "I wonder if you may have considered that you're allowing a different sort of interference." 

"Counselor?" 

"In this instance, Q has not involved himself in ship's business, but been involved by the actions of the Alstriad monarch. If your spouse were simply a mortal living on this ship, do you think you would be so thoroughly committed to refraining from allowing him to help?" 

"I'm not sure I understand how Q could help us in this matter, apart from the sort of help none of us wishes to encourage." 

"Nor do I, sir, at this point. But I think you may want to consider that there may be a need for his involvement before this is over." 

"Noted." Picard placed her suggestion in his "Bad Ideas" file and called the meeting over. After another half-hour on the bridge, he called his away team together once more and transported down to the planet, now fully aware that Q had settled himself into a corner of the throne room to watch the proceedings with a bowl of popcorn in his lap. Picard tried to tell him that he did not appreciate the levity, but Q responded smugly that he did and munched a handful of kernels with gusto. 

The queen knew that they knew about her now. Their guarded expressions would have given them away even without the control she felt in their minds. 

And the one she wanted, his control was greater than the others, by far, and yet not enough to keep from her a deepening of his contentment. Love and the aftermaths of bliss seeped from him like blood from a freshly drawn heart. Never in her life had she been presented with such a delicacy. 

_Keep drooling, bitch,_ Q thought with satisfaction, even though it drew a mental frown from Picard. 

The comment had another unexpected result. 

"Is your lover nearby, Picard?" the queen asked sharply. 

The captain felt his officers stiffen in protest on his behalf, and made a mental note to thank them for it later. He never remembered that sort of thing...or, more to the point, he was so uncomfortable with that sort of thing he always conveniently forgot until after the moment had passed. Well, this time he would make a point of it. 

"Yes," he answered the monarch. 

"I would like to speak with her." 

Picard kept the smile off his face. "The business we are conducting together is on behalf of the Federation. My spouse is not a member of the Federation, and has no part in our discussions." 

"She does if I say she does!" 

Q's smugness was filling him now, and he struggled to keep it off his face, mentally hissing at the entity munching popcorn in the corner. 

"One aspect of Federation policy which makes me proud to serve under it is the understanding that professional demands may not be required to take precedence over private ones. We are all officers who have sworn to lay down our lives in the line of duty, but the concerns of our family are not a part of that sworn sacrifice. My spouse does not choose to be a part of this, nor do I wish it." 

The queen was angry, and getting angrier at every cultured word. "What I wish is of supreme importance here, Picard, if you wish any rights to the ore, if you wish the Federation to be able to continue negotiations for your trade route, if you want anything but animosity between my people and yours for eternity!" 

And even as Picard opened his mouth to explain that her threats were counterproductive to her people's welfare, he felt that special shift and looked around in surprise. Everyone was frozen into place, a slight red-blue tinge to their outlines. He could feel the stillness in the air itself. 

Q came from the corner, no popcorn, a deadly serious expression on his face. 

"Jean-Luc, it might be time for a change in tactics." 

"Q, I assure you there's no need --" 

"Perhaps not for you, my love, but there is one for me." Lightly, Q dropped onto the pillow beside him, leaning forward for a light kiss and then settling back with a sigh. "Listen to your little counselor girl. If I were just your mortal partner would you be insisting that I stay out of it?" 

"I should think so." 

Q sighed. "She just wants to meet me at this point, Johnny. It's more curiosity and wounded pride than anything else. I don't mind. Or at least, I only mind enough that it seems like a present I can give you. You don't let me give you enough, you know." 

Picard smiled faintly and looked at him with eyes that threatened to melt the entity into the cushions. "You give me everything, my love." 

Q stared at him, and suddenly Picard's right nipple began to tingle. He knew it wasn't something Q was doing with his powers. It was simply the unsatisfied need he felt whenever Q looked at him like that, and the memory of their last time together giving the need form. 

"How is it," Jean-Luc asked quietly, "that I ever do anything but make love with you?" 

Q swallowed thickly. "As I wonder the same thing almost constantly myself, my beloved, I can't answer that." Q's eyes darted around. "I could take us out of here and we could fuck for a week." 

A slow, intensely pleasured smile stretched itself along Picard's lips. "I want nothing more now than to be in our room." He didn't have to say which room. "But I want to take care of this first. I want to make love with you without this...sovereign distracting either of us." 

"And afterwards?" 

Picard considered things. "Two weeks," he said finally. "Let's fuck each other for two weeks." 

Q's dark eyes, now almost black, closed as he leaned forward for another long, sweet, deep, perfect kiss. Then he sat back with a determined grin. "So, you'll let me come here and help you deal with the barracuda?" 

Picard chuckled ruefully. "She really is quite the outdated stereotype. I'm disappointed in the universe for creating her." 

Q shrugged, drunk with happiness. "I'm sure the universe is doing its best." He put up his hand suddenly, an obvious sign of a pledge. "I will limit myself only to Human abilities...except for resisting her empathy, of course. You wouldn't care for it, I hope, if she decided to seduce _me?_ " 

For an answer, and because he suddenly felt a wave of possessive rage, Picard grabbed Q and kissed him roughly, not stopping until they were both breathless. "I don't care if she throws herself naked into your lap," he growled. "You're not to notice her." 

"Notice who?" 

Picard nodded, and Q disappeared. A few minutes went by while he got himself under control, then he nodded again and time recommenced. 

The queen felt the instant shift in his emotions and glared at him, but he was already saying smoothly, "If my spouse's appearance here is of such importance to you, I will certainly contact my ship." 

The away team all kept from blinking or looking at each other. Riker became aware that the next part of this was going to be hard on him. 

He tried, for the most part successfully, not to think about his captain's involvement with the being who had once made him look like a jackass. He tried not to imagine Picard and Q together, doing anything, but especially doing anything romantic. 

Sometimes, on the bridge on beta or gamma shift, when he knew Picard and Q were doubtlessly together in the captain's quarters, he wondered what it meant about the universe that the man he respected more than anything was...consorting with an almost omnipotent entity they had all once heartily despised. 

Riker was aware that Q had done quite a bit to help Picard, and Humanity. He also knew that Q's granting him the power of Q had been an important part of his own evolution. 

There, that was the place that really hurt. Riker owed Q. Having had those few days of omnipotence had taught him so much about himself, so much he might not have learned. He'd been a jackass, but he'd also learned _not_ to be a jackass. Would he have been able to realize how happy he was on the Enterprise if he'd never been a god, never known about the emptiness of pure power? He considered it his greatest personal triumph that he'd known happiness when he finally found it and not let himself be promoted away. He knew he could live the rest of his life like this...though eventually he did want to be captain of the Enterprise, somehow he _didn't_ want Picard _not_ to be captain...and he owed all that in some part to Q. 

But he didn't want to like it. Didn't want to like him. He had been trying, though, for Picard's sake, to hate him less. 

It was amazing, really, what Riker knew he'd do for Picard. He knew it was hero-worship and he didn't care. Sometimes, certain people were just worth it. If Picard said, "Take this phaser and shoot yourself in the head," he'd probably do it. But then, that had been true for years now, and he had gotten somewhat used to it. But the knowledge that Picard had someone in his life who was so important and yet so...disturbing, so potentially loathsome...No. Riker shook his head imperceptibly at his own thoughts. Q wasn't loathsome, but he didn't deserve the captain's love. 

There, that was the real issue. Picard should have gotten a goddess, not a fallen, prankster, occasional asshole of a demi-god. 

And now Picard was actually going to bring Q here? It was a horrible mistake. He was certain of it. 

But the queen had agreed with a nod of her head, and Picard's hand had gone to his combadge. 

"Picard to Q." 

"Q here, Captain." 

The officers all kept themselves from reacting to the sound of the entity's voice over the communication system. 

"I wonder if you could join us down here. Her Majesty would like to speak to you." 

"On my way. Q out." 

The queen stared at Picard. So his "spouse" was a man, was he? Did Picard believe that somehow made him immune? She'd had more than one supposedly homosexual man begging for her touch. 

And yet, Picard did seem immune. Even now she was sending out tendrils, keeping them carefully from the others this time, focusing them on this powerful man...and he seemed not to notice at all. Indignation and concern boiled in her belly. 

And then a tall, dark-haired man transported into the throne room and nodded at her respectfully, his manners as impeccable as the captain's. 

He was handsome, in a strangely sensual sort of way. He was not in uniform, but his black pants, boots, and black-red shirt somehow suggested the captain's own attire without aping it. She sensed power in this man, and his connection to Picard. Their love was a white tangle of threads across the room, a constantly expressed need of light and warmth she wanted directed her way. 

"So," she drawled, "you are Captain Picard's...partner?" 

"Yes," Q said, smiling in a reserved but friendly fashion. At her nod, he walked over to the pillows and set himself down next to Picard, who smiled at him faintly. She noticed that the captain's lackeys were all watching this intently. Evidently they did not get to see much of the happy couple in action. Idly, she opened herself to their surprised pleasure. It was better than nothing, and nothing was all she was getting from the two she wanted. 

"Do you find it difficult to be the husband of a starship captain?" she probed. 

"I'm not thrilled when his duties keep us apart," Q answered quietly, surprised to find he was enjoying himself. "But I could never begrudge anything that brings him pleasure." 

"He enjoys his job more than you, then?" 

Q smiled. This wasn't hard at all, though it would be easier without the little trained minions there with their ears perked up. "It's not a question of enjoyment, but identity. I'm sure you've realized he is a man who's made his job a part of himself. I would never want him to be less than he is." 

Picard rode a wave of pleasure in those simple words. It occurred to him that he and Q had never had any sort of formal ceremony. This whole thing was beginning to feel like an impromptu wedding. All those he would like to have on hand were there, and he was certainly glad of the omission of Worf. The Klingon would be waiting for the "If anyone knows now why these two should not be wed" part before charging at Q with a bat'telh. 

"But aren't you a part of him as well?" The queen's insinuating voice had nothing on Q's when he was in the mood, but it was still pretty good. "It must be hard when you realize he's operating in a space where you can't be." 

"Our time apart defines us." The Continuum's questioning in the early part of Q's relationship with Picard had already let him make up his mind about such issues, and he found the old answers readily coming to his lips. "We have to be ourselves if we are to be anything to each other. And our outside interests enrich what we have together." 

"But his profession is dangerous," she murmured, managing to sound quite sympathetic. "It must pain you to know that he would...'lay down his life in the line of duty.' You may suddenly be left all alone." 

"Your pardon, Highness, but my beliefs regarding death are not in alignment with your own. Jean-Luc and I will never part." 

Picard kept himself from reacting to that one, but no one else did. 

Reacting visibly, anyway. The mental reaction was rather pronounced: 

_When this is over, Q, I'm going to make you come so hard you won't know what your 'identity' is for a month._

"Such belief is commendable," the queen sneered, "but must be little consolation in the face of true danger." 

_Are you going to take me from the back or the front?_

"Your pardon, Highness, but I find it great consolation indeed." 

_The front, with your legs around me and you screaming for more and me so deep inside you I'll wonder if I'll ever leave you again._

"You must think very highly of your love indeed." The queen was showing her anger clearly now. 

_When I come with you inside me, Jean-Luc, I'll splash all over you again, and then I'll lick it off, every drop, until you're hard, and then I'll turn you over and fuck you until you start screaming in Klingon again._

_I only did that because you asked me too!_

"The object of my affections propels me to hubris," Q told the queen with a smile. 

She stood, nostrils flaring and eyes alight. "I commend you, Picard, on your...fine spouse. But perhaps he does not speak for you?" 

"Considering how completely he holds my soul in his keeping," Picard said quietly, "I am delighted to know that he speaks for me whenever he chooses." 

_Oh! You are going to get it, Jean-Luc! Every turbo-lift on the ship will need a cleaning when we're done!_

"Well!" The queen tossed her dark hair. "Such a declaration demands a celebration." She clapped her hands together and a dozen servants appeared. "Wine!" she shouted at them. "Food, music! Inform the others, We're having a celebration to mark the Federation's success in closing its negotiations with Us." She turned her head and set her eyes upon the man she still intended to have, along with his eloquent lover. "Congratulations, Captain. The sklothym ore is yours, at the price you named." She smiled a lioness' smile. "You and your husband will stay to celebrate, won't you?" 

"Of course." 

In very short order the wall between the throne room and a large reception hall was dismantled, an orchestra with a surprisingly Terran feel to it was playing. Picard and Q were continuing to send each other promises and images of lovemaking, though no one could actually speak during the few moments of intense noise and movement as the hall crowded with Her Majesty's subjects and all manner of food and drink and entertainments was offered. 

Finally, Picard managed to get with his people in a corner, Q quietly standing at his side. 

"Was she sincere about the ore, Counselor?" 

"Completely, sir. But," the empath's dark eyes revealed concern as they went between Picard and Q, "she's not done with either of you." 

"The evening promises to entertain!" Q announced, making Picard half-bury a smile the others could plainly see. 

"Thank you for the warning, Counselor," Picard said, again with no idea of the smug tone in his voice. "In the meantime, I suggest that we try to enjoy the party...and keep an eye out for whatever surprises she may have in store." 

Everyone nodded, and they split into groups: Troi and Riker, Data and LaForge. Crusher stayed behind a moment, looking at Q with a surprisingly impish smile. 

"That was quite a speech, Q. Perhaps you'd like to be in one of my plays sometime? I see you playing the lead in... _The Taming of the Shrew?_ " 

"You watch it, Bev." Q's tone was sheer indulgence. It would take a lot more than a smart-mouthed doctor to ruin his mood. "Jean-Luc would look horrible in a dress." 

"Fortunately," Picard murmured, "I won't be the one wearing it." 

Q just laughed. 

The party continued for some time. Picard was introduced to a dizzying array of VIPs and their aides and their aides. Q entertained himself much as he had at the Enterprise's reception some weeks ago, sending images to Picard and trying not to ogle his lover too overtly. He made little contact with the Enterprise command staff, though Riker sent him an odd look. Primarily he tried to enjoy simply watching Picard do his job, imagining him naked and wondering if there might be any new erogenous zones for him to explore. One of the nicest things about Humans was the way they went through a completely new set of skin periodically, shifting their hot spots a bit and adding new ones all the time. 

Perhaps that area near his right elbow was sensitive enough now for some sincere attention. 

"Are you enjoying my little party, Q?" a sultry voice asked from behind him. 

_Oh, lady. Are_ you _out of your league._ He turned to face the queen. 

She'd changed her clothes from the royal robes of her throne room to something even more revealing. The colors went together almost perfectly, but not quite. A bit less purple would have helped. 

"Lovely," he replied in a tone that said the opposite. 

She smiled deeply and reached out a hand holding a drink. Q could easily see the drug in it. 

"Thank you," he said with a smile, taking it and draining it in several large swallows. If he had been what he appeared it would have made him randy as hell and none too particular. Fortunately, he wasn't what he appeared, and he was already randy, just not for her. 

He smiled at her smugly, and watched the delectation of her eyes. Oh dear. The queen was in for quite a disappointment. 

Several minutes passed while she talked with her advisors about the Federation's contract, then she turned back to him with arch brows. He smiled serenely. She frowned. 

_What's going on, Q?_

_Bitch here drugged me._

_She did?_

_Jean-Luc! You're jealous!_

_What kind of drug?_

_Aphrodisiac. Should we get Bev to pump my stomach?_

"Captain Picard?" the queen had turned suddenly and was addressing him. 

"Your Highness?" 

"If you and your husband would come with me, I have something to show you both." 

"Certainly. May I ask what it is?" 

She nodded her head, and the advisors around her began to dissipate. "We call it the He-hedrl. To be invited to view it is considered an honor." 

Picard knew that Q was laughing at something hysterically, but not at what, and so the captain simply nodded. 

The queen led them away from the party with gliding steps, down a long corridor, through a darkened room, and then down another, somehow unused section of corridor, where candles burned and incense began to seep into the air. 

Picard had a half-second's intuition what was behind the door right as the nearly invisible footmen threw it open and the queen trailed inside with them in tow. 

Naked men, everywhere. Beautiful boys and muscle-bound men, blonde gods and dark hustlers, choir boys and thugs, intellectuals and laborers, pampered bodies and callused hides, all stretched out along the pillows, pleasuring each other and being pleasured. 

And it was as if Picard could see the energy flowing into the Queen of Alstriad. For the first time he understood her lust, a sort of feeding upon the pleasure of others which enhanced rather than detracted from the source. The eroticism of the room was at a fever-pitch when they entered, but it tripled as she stood there, surveying her subjects. 

And the captain realized that this was her primary function as queen, in whatever capacity: to enhance her people's enjoyment of their wealth and prosperity by enhancing their pleasure. Right this moment it was direct and sexual, but in her whole lifestyle she acted as conduit for their luxury, a blessing upon their Epicurean lives, a catalyst to their desires and their wishes fulfilled. She took, but she returned. She drank, and yet was herself the fountain. 

But what she wanted from them was out of the question. 

"I'm sorry," he said quietly, "but this," he waved vaguely, "is not a part of my relationship with Q." 

"And is it too weak to withstand such pleasure?" she taunted. 

"Just because I can strike a jewel with my fist without injuring the jewel is no reason to strike it." 

"I have private rooms for you," she said, and there was a hostess quality to her voice Picard almost laughed at. 

"No, thank you." 

"But I can help you. You and your husband can experience new bliss beyond anything you have known." 

Picard once again didn't realize how smug was his expression. "Thank you, but we really are not requiring of your services." 

In answer, the queen swooped in on him suddenly, and though Q could have stopped her, he didn't. She melted into Picard with all her strength and all her powers and applied to him the height of her skills. She twined her arms around him, seeking out pressure points, twisting his lips between her own, and wrapped tendril after tentacle of pure desire and excitement around him as Q watched, smiling slightly to himself. 

When she broke the kiss, she stared into those clear hazel eyes a long moment before moving away. 

"What are you?" she asked in a low, desperate voice. "Who are you?" 

"I am Captain Jean-Luc Picard of the U.S.S. Enterprise." 

She stared at him, and it was as if he could feel her defeat. The sensation gave him no pleasure. This was what she did, and, in her own eyes, it was what she was. 

_Jean-Luc, I don't understand..._ Along with Q's confused half-question Picard saw in his mind Q's knowledge of her bitter defeat and his lack of triumph at her defeat. It came from hopeless pride on both their parts, he knew. How could they blame her for desiring what they had? How could they want her to suffer when their union was all the better now for having known her? Picard sensed from his lover every part of Q's dismay that he no longer wanted to torment her, to punish her for coveting what he had, and loved Q all the more for it once again. 

And together they thought something that would have astounded them only an hour ago. 

Picard reached out and Q came to him eagerly, part of him completely uncaring of why he was able to kiss Jean-Luc, or where, or in front of whom. The sexuality of the room meant nothing to him. He'd seen so much more, known such perversity and sensuality in his life. 

And it was all nothing. 

_This,_ he thought as he and Picard drew each other close, _this is all that counts._ And he kissed the lips of his beloved and felt how greatly he was loved, and nothing existed anymore but that sensation he drowned in so eagerly, giving all that he was into the moment, pouring himself unreservedly into the possession of the one who owned him, who sustained him, who was all that he was and took and gave and was what he wanted everything he had to be... 

And when they broke the kiss, Picard and Q realized that the room had become deathly quiet. 

Looking around, they saw not only the Queen of Alstriad gaping at them, but also the amazed expression of every last man in the room, some of them frozen in the most intimate of positions. 

"I think, if you agree, that it is time for us to leave," Picard said, tugging his uniform in place as he turned to the monarch. "I am pleased, deeply pleased, that our negotiations have come to this mutually beneficial end, and I look forward to the continuance of our friendship throughout the Federation and Alstriad negotiations that are to come." 

_Oh, puh-lease, Jean-Luc._

The Alstriad monarch nodded vaguely. "I look forward to our future together as well." 

And then Picard was informing his people over the conn that they could leave when they felt like it, and then contacting the Enterprise for two to beam up. With a nod on both sides, the queen watched as Picard and Q gently disappeared from her sight. 

  
The materialization seemed to complete itself, though Picard knew it would be at least two weeks, relatively speaking, before it actually managed to do so. 

There was the large white bed, the gently billowing white curtains, the warm sunlight, the white walls and the soft white carpet. 

He was instantly hard, and naked, the imprint of Q's kiss on his lips suddenly urgent in its tease. He wanted more, now. He wanted...he needed... 

And Q grabbed his hand and hauled him the few steps to the bed before throwing himself across it, ending up on knees and elbows as Picard felt warm lubricant around his erection. 

And it seemed as though he began the final step to the bed with his right foot and ended up inside Q with his left. 

"Ohhhhhh," he breathed with the perfection of it. He needed this so much. Had Q realized he was about to explode? Each of those nameless lovers in that rather unsavory brothel had simply suggested what he and Q could do when they were alone. Each moan and cry had been a pale but teasing suggestion of the bliss he could know. 

And now he was inside that warmth and strength and boundless, infinite, complete and total love that was his lover's body. Q embraced him with tight muscles and a tangible groan of pleasure and, simply, _himself._ He could sense Q all around him, welcoming him in. He knew, suddenly, how much Q had enjoyed watching him kiss the Alstriad monarch without arousal, and a wry thought twined around that knowledge. 

_You had yourself a good time, my love?_ Picard reared back and thrust as hard as he could. 

"Yes!" A jumble of sensations rather than words replied in Picard's mind. 

And then there was no stopping. Deeper and deeper as Q spread his knees and arched his back and rocked against each straining impact. He was groaning constantly, filled with heat and shaking with the energy of both wanting and receiving, of pouring out and being filled, and of the simple tactile fucking sensation of it all. 

"Yes!" Q screamed as Picard's hand found him, held him as he came, the warm semen filling that grasp and spilling out onto the bed even as the man came inside him, filling his body deeply, tangible sensation of love and tenderness that made his orgasm double and triple as his body shook through the shocks and aftershocks. 

Eventually, they were sprawled together, gasping. Time passed, and Q cleaned them off, and Picard moved up so they were in each other's arms. 

"I don't have anything in my life anymore that isn't somehow connected to loving you," the rich voice said, and Q closed his eyes. He was going to enjoy this. 

"My command makes me feel worthy of you. My friendships seem to balance me for you. Missions have now become an excuse to show you off while I explore what you mean to me. I could feel it tonight, Riker wondering if he'd misjudged you, and I never liked him better, never felt more proud of him. 

"And I want to be worried. I want to reject it and return to myself. But _myself_ has become incomplete without you. The more I become your lover the more I become truly Jean-Luc Picard. I can no more fear what you mean to me than I can fear my reflection in the mirror. 

"And I don't want to fear it. As much as it is, as great as it has become, I want more. I can't get enough of you, and I can't get enough of what you mean to me. You have taken me far beyond something I can control, but, somehow, I don't have to control it. I don't even want to. And I should." 

Picard was quiet a time, and merely to prod him, Q asked, "Why?" 

The man shrugged, him arms still locked around his lover. "Because it's my job. Because I'm responsible for my crew and I have always commanded by controlling everything I could, especially myself. 

"And now I have something I can't control, but instead of distrusting it, I find I trust it more than myself. It's a sort of belief, I suppose. I believe in what we mean to each other. I knew, although I had no reason to know, that this business with the queen would sort itself out, that it would work, not because of your powers, but because of what we are to each other. Our love..." Picard paused a moment, even in this place, in bed with Q, he felt the melodrama of his words and wanted to resist. "Our love, I knew, would make things work out." 

He could feel the gathering in Q, the conflation of emotion that made him smile in anticipation of being touched and brought to pleasure. 

But Q merely pressed a bit more tightly against him and murmured that he should sleep. 

Puzzled, but content, the captain closed his eyes, only catching the thought as he dropped off, faintly, _You're going to need your rest, beloved._

  
The man awoke to the faint smell of roses and soap. 

The first thing he saw was Q's face, his head resting on a fist, his body stretched out alongside him and propped on an elbow. 

"Morning, darling." 

"Good morning, Q." 

His lover brought a croissant to Picard's lips and, smiling indulgently, he took a bite, unable to keep his pleased expression from lighting his eyes like a child's. A slight taste of almonds stayed with him as he sipped the hot coffee Q served up next. 

When he was done, Picard watched, his breathing getting a little shallow, as Q bent forward and slowly licked each crumb from his chest. He was suddenly, achingly aware of his own naked body and the one sharing this soft white bed. He wanted the warm tongue and skilled lips which moved across his body to move to other parts of him, and he was increasingly aware of the erection he'd had since the second sip of coffee. 

But Q moved away from him, pulling him gently into a sitting position, and up to his feet beside the bed. 

One wall of the room was gone, turned into an arched passageway to a large, white-tiled bathing chamber with a sunken, filled, steaming tub and lit with a hundred candles. Just looking at the dancing light against all that water made his erection throb. 

"Q..." he began. 

"Shhh," his lover said tenderly. "Indulge me." 

Sighing, feeling silly but not really wanting to protest, Picard let Q lead him into what felt more and more like a shrine. Standing at the edge of the sunken tub, Jean-Luc watched Q take up the soft sponge and dip it into the rose-scented water before gently washing his face, then moving behind him to wash his shoulders, then his back and buttocks. More dips with the sponge, then his chest and arms and stomach. Then as Q knelt he got more warm water and Picard's legs were laved completely, then the tops of his feet, then, carefully indeed, Q helped him balance on each foot as his soles were tended to. 

"That tickles," Picard said dreamily, unable to withstand this new act of adoration. He was painfully hard now, but prepared for quite a bit more attention before Q took care of _that_ part of his body. 

But Q dipped the sponge once more before cleaning the flushed, erect penis with small, gentle movements that left Picard moaning. His testicles were cleaned, then the perineum as he spread his legs, then along his cleft. 

And then he stood there, skin tingling from the evaporating water in the candle-warm air. 

And then Q was in front of him, smiling, eyes bright with the flickering light, and he knelt again to kiss the weeping tip of his lover's cock. Picard tried not to thrust into that sensation, but he was so relaxed, so far from his careful control. Q licked him now from tip to base, nuzzling him, gently taking hold of his hips and licking the top of his thighs before moving again to the tip and encircling him. As Picard groaned loudly, Q took him in all the way, skillful pressure and warmth all along that part of him that couldn't get enough pressure and warmth. Q's ministrations were tender and gentle and yet forceful and tight. 

There was no teasing, no drawing out of pleasure, and far sooner than he'd meant to, Picard was coming into Q's mouth, feeling him swallow, held up only by the steady hands at his hips. 

"My love," he murmured when he had steadied, reaching for the entity keeling before him. 

But Q intercepted his hands and used them to lead Picard down into the hot water of the bath. Picard relaxed into the heat, all urgency gone with having come, as Q scrubbed himself roughly, thoroughly. Picard had thought he might do that for Q, but he was relaxed beyond the ability to offer himself to so much movement, and Q once again seemed to have a definite agenda in mind. 

Then Q looked at him, smiling faintly, and slowed his movements. Taking the large soft sponge in his right hand, he lowered it into the water, gripped it tightly and released, then raised it to his chest to let the hot, scented water trickle down his body. 

Picard felt his erection return. The living light of the candles caught in a thousand tiny prisms all along the glowing, smooth skin of his lover, the muscles underneath moving fluidly as he dipped and raised the sponge again. 

"Q..." 

The entity smiled more deeply, meeting his eyes, before sinking his whole long body down under the water. Anticipation sang along Picard's nerves, and a hand clasped his right foot before Q's lips pressed a soft kiss onto the top of it. In his hyper-relaxed and yet aroused state, Picard felt the kiss through his whole body, and then felt the next one, on his ankle, and then on his calf (a tongue licked him as well), and then up his leg. 

He was groaning now and hoping rather fiercely for more attentions to his cock, but Q's gentle hands turned him around and pushed him up a bit so that he was leaning over the top of tub's soft side. Picard didn't even think of resisting. Q could tie his legs in a bow and he'd offer to place his finger on the knot. 

And now Q was kissing along the backs of his thighs, moving up to his buttocks, and Picard was suddenly certain of what he was going to get next and grew urgently hard at the thought. He loved this, and yet he could never bring himself to ask for it. Spreading his legs and arching his back, he sent Q the bulk of his feelings and felt awash with love and gratitude. 

Q responded only by kissing his opening and then forcefully probing with his tongue. 

"Ahhhh!" Picard shouted into the candle-lit space, the sound echoing and amplifying and urging him on. "I love you! Oh, God!" Fingers trailed along his erection. "Yes! No! Q!" 

And he came, forcefully, again much sooner than he'd wanted to but unable to deny it. Gasping, half in and half out of the tub, his hips in Q's firm grasp, he came back to himself. 

And Q's tongue was still inside him. 

"Ohhhhh," he was getting aroused again, even while his heart was trying to slow down from last time, even while he was trying to catch his breath. The room was actually going dark as he threatened to pass out from it. 

But he rallied, pushing himself into the next round because he wanted it greedily. Why should he deny himself something his lover wanted for him? Again he spread his legs and again he screamed and again the pleasure raped him without mercy, exploding inside him with no concern for his welfare and he loved it, opening himself to it as he might thrust his body in front of a phaser: a challenge to reality to destroy him if it chose. He had to have this, had to have more of it, and it burned him and battered him and he whimpered for more. And got it. 

When Picard came this time it seemed to Q that his lover was nothing more than sensation, as if his body were simply a symbol of pleasure and love. Which was only as it should be. Unsteadily, he moved up to take that trembling and spent symbol into his arms, pouring in a bit of his own energy to keep the flesh from waning too far. He knew Picard knew nothing now but what Q wanted him to feel, and, with a thought, he transferred them to the bed. 

But he had forgotten Picard's greatest gift, and chuffed with surprise when the seemingly luminescent body in his arms suddenly twisted and he was beneath his lover's hands and kisses. All over. Picard touched him everywhere, quickly, light little touches that demonstrated a complete knowledge of his Human form. Q was pleading now, silently, wanting to be touched but long past the point of needing stimulation. He was so hard it hurt. 

"My love," the man murmured, and Q thought he would come from the velvet warmth of that voice alone. "How did I get you?" He was speaking in-between kissing a path up along Q's inner thighs. "How was I so fortunate? What could I have done to get _this?_ " He licked the thick drop of precum from the delicately smooth head of Q's pounding erection and the whole long body seemed to stretch out with a reaction of pure need. "Yes. That's the taste of my lover. Caviar and Earl Grey have nothing on you." 

"Beloved..." It was more than a plea, and with Q's consciousness enshrouding him with urgent adoration, Picard moved up to straddle his lover's hips before lowering himself down, becoming one with the other half of himself. 

The formation of Picard/Q was surprised at the slow ease of this joining. They fit inside each other so perfectly now. 

_Don't move,_ what was left of the Q part urged, his larged hands on those narrow hips. _If you move I'll come._

_No, you won't,_ the Picard part responded confidently, and the entity relaxed that last bit as he realized his lover had him under his control. Reciprocating with joy, he took control of the man's pleasure. And now they were fully united and unafraid. As Picard's body began to rock back and forth, up and down, sending through them both the bliss that colored and shaped each fusion they would know, Picard/Q decided together that there would be no holding back, and faced the depth of the need they shared. 

It was frightening for them, looking into that space, even together. It seemed endless, but Picard/Q had practice finding boundaries, and eventually they knew it was something they could fill. 

And their bodies moved together now, slowly, at first, then, as the man's body arced down, touching everywhere the limited flesh could reach, a dance of hands and hips mimicked in the motions of their lips and the gliding intertwinings of their tongues. 

Eventually, they rolled sideways on the bed, and Q's right hand settled around the silky length of Picard's erection and began to stroke, and Picard's right hand pressed its fingers into Q's tight ass, and they coordinated everything in a perfect rhythm as Picard/Q watched the fire of nerves and essence burn brighter than the twinkling candlelight of a sun. 

_Will this destroy me?_

_I have belief that it will not._

And yet it did, somehow, leaving only this place that they had made together and sheer light, hot and eager and soothing and filling every inch of what had been the vast emptiness of joint need. It was perfect because they wished it to be so, and it was filled with their lover, because that was the nature of perfection. 

  
Later, lying together, contemplating eternity and what to eat for lunch, Q and Picard amused themselves with silly jokes about the party, letting it grow into a contest. Finally, Q managed to come up with a set of adjectives which suggested that the He-hedrl, if filled with copulating tribbles instead of men, perfectly described the last admiral's dinner Picard had been forced to attend. 

Chuckling, Picard declared Q the winner and they twined tightly about each other and fell asleep. 

  
THE END 

Picard and Q will return in _For Q's Eyes Only_.* 

*Beware, in these waters be dragons.


End file.
